


filaments

by bayloriffic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alphabet Meme, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-11-25 16:30:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/640870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bayloriffic/pseuds/bayloriffic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of (unconnected) vignettes -- one for each letter of the alphabet -- about Belle and Mr.Gold/Rumpelstiltskin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. (A is for) Abdicate

A month after she arrives at the Dark Castle, Belle wakes up feeling like she’s at death’s door.

It’s probably just a common cold, she knows, but her head aches and her throat burns and she’s shaky enough that it takes her almost twice as long as it usually does to put together the afternoon tea and make her way into the great hall.

When she gets there, Rumpelstiltskin is sitting at his wheel, his back to her. He doesn’t turn around immediately, keeps his eyes trained on the wheel and the thin strand of gold he’s spinning, but she can see his posture shift, a slight release in the lines of his back. 

“If you insist on being late, dearie, I may have to rethink your accommodations,” he says with mock-sternness, and Belle smiles.

He upgraded her from the dungeon after only one night; her current room is full of gold brocade and soft linens, and he seemed so pleased with himself when he presented her with it, she figures she’ll need to do something more serious than show up five minutes late for afternoon tea for him to toss her back in the dungeon.

Belle sneezes, sniffling a little as she does. “Sorry,” she says, voice raspy. “I –” she starts, but the rest of what she’s going to say is lost in a fit of coughing.

Rumpelstiltskin whips around to look at her, his spinning forgotten as stares at her, brow furrowed in confusion. For her part, Belle tries to concentrate on the tray in her hands, the cups and saucers rattling precariously as she attempts to get her coughing under control.

Across the room, Rumpelstiltskin jumps a bit, waving his hands in a flourish. Belle feels a quick burst of static as he magics the tray out of her hands and onto the polished wood table in a flash of purple smoke. She gives him a nod of thanks, wincing as she swallows hard.

“Are you…?” he says, gesturing vaguely in her direction, his hands fluttering nervously.

She raises her eyebrows as she wipes her nose discreetly on a linen handkerchief.

He clears his throat and edges closer to her, still not saying anything.

Belle tucks away the handkerchief and focuses on sorting out the tea things. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Rumpelstiltskin dance even closer to her, watching her anxiously.

“Are you…all right?” he finally asks. The last two words sound stilted and awkward, but she gives him a gentle smile, biting on her lower lip as she nods.

“I’m fine,” she tells him, though she sounds terrible even to her own ears, her voice shaky and rough.

“You’re ill,” he says, sounding confused and — unless Belle is mistaken, and she doesn’t think that she is — rather worried.

“It’s just a cold,” she tells him reassuringly, but her voice cracks and he takes a quick step toward her.

She pours his tea, trying to keep her hand from shaking. She's not particularly successful, and the teapot rattles so much that she fears she may chip his cup even further.

He’s still kind of hovering near her, his hands fluttering and feet shuffling with jittery energy. She takes a moment before she pours her own cup, her head suddenly light. She leans heavily against the table, closing her eyes as a shiver runs through her body.

Suddenly, he’s beside her, his hands warm against her arms. Belle leans into him a little, grateful for the contact.

It’s the first time she’s felt his skin against hers; it’s softer than she imagined, warm and only slightly rough.

He leads her to the head of the table, his fingers feather-light against her arms, and urges her to sit in the chair, the one he always occupies when they’re here together.

“Isn’t this your place?” she asks. The table has only ever had the one chair, and Belle always takes her tea either leaning against the table or strolling around the room, looking curiously at his treasures. Not once has he invited her to sit.

He shrugs and moves away from her, fidgeting with the sugar bowl and the small pitcher of milk, his body practically radiating with tension.

“Can’t have my housekeeper dying on me, now can I?” he says. He’s grinning, his voice high and laced with his manic giggle.

Belle breaks out into another coughing fit, and Rumpelstiltskin sobers immediately, his eyes wide and unguarded as he watches her.

He steps up next to her again, his hands hovering just next to her, close enough that she can feel the heat of him.

It takes her a moment to stop coughing, but as soon as she does, he starts to move away again, and that whole side of Belle’s body feels suddenly cold.

“Rumpelstiltskin,” she says, reaching out and taking hold of his hand.

For just a moment, he stills, unmoving as he looks down at her hand holding his wrist. Her skin is very, very pale next to his, and she can feel the beat of his heart through his skin, his pulse racing against her fingertips.

He swallows hard and looks back up at her. “Yes, dearie?”

“Thank you,” she says sincerely, squeezing his wrist gently before releasing him.

He nods anxiously and steps back almost immediately, looking flustered and confused, but not unhappy.

She gives him a gentle smile, and he picks up his cup and takes a sip of tea, watching her over the chipped rim.

Even through the haze of her illness, Belle can see something different in the way he's looking at her -- his strange gold-bright eyes filled with a tenderness that Belle's quite sure hasn't ever been there before.


	2. (S is for) Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle discovers the library in the Dark Castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to whiteorangeflower on tumblr for the prompt!

Rumpelstiltskin’s tea is late. 

The castle looms large and silent all around him, which a couple of weeks ago would have been cause for little concern. After all, the Dark Castle was, prior to Belle’s arrival, not only filthy, but very, very quiet. 

But since she’s been here, there’s always something to break the stillness in the air: the sound of cookery being clanked in the kitchen, the click-clacking of her silly high-heeled shoes, her humming as she dusts his treasures in the Great Hall.

So when he arrives at the Hall for his tea, and it’s dark and silent -- no Belle, no tea tray, no chipped blue-and-white cup -- Rumpelstiltskin’s first reaction is confusion. This is quickly followed by an uncomfortable, peculiar surge of worry, before being replaced with familiar sense of rage. 

It’s not that he didn’t expect her to leave him, but rather that he thought if she were going to do it, it would have been much sooner after her arrival. To stay here for weeks, serving him his tea, spending time with him, chatting with him as if they were friends and then to just vanish one cold, winter afternoon. Well. It’s not surprising, but it is reneging on their deal. 

Luckily, it's winter, the snow falling heavy, and the Dark Castle is quite far into the mountains, so it’s doubtful his little dealbreaker could have made it far. 

With a simple flick of his wrist, Rumpelstiltskin conjures a small, silver hand-mirror, one he keeps in his workshop, safely covered except in times such as this. When he looks into the mirror, he expects to see Belle bundled in her cloak, struggling unsuccessfully against the mountainous terrain, but it takes him not to the mountains but to a room filled with books, a roaring fire, and a strangely familiar ottoman.

*

Belle is sitting in the large wingback chair by the fireplace, her nose buried in a book.

Though Rumpelstiltskin doesn’t attempt to hide his approach, she doesn’t so much twitch at the sound of his footsteps. 

He tilts his head curiously, moving ever closer to her. By the time he’s standing only a few feet from her chair, she still hasn’t acknowledged his presence, so he sidles right up next to her, leaning down until he can almost make out the words on the page in front of her.

“Good story?” he asks, from close enough that his lips almost graze her ear.

She lets out a little gasp and jumps to her feet, the book dropping to the floor with a loud thunk. 

Rumpelstiltskin laughs, a high, manic, giggle. She is such fun to tease, he’s discovered.

“You scared me!” she scolds lightly, reaching out and swatting him on the arm. She does it playfully, and obviously thoughtlessly, because once she realizes what she’s done, she snatches her hand away from him, her eyes wide. 

Rumpelstiltskin holds a hand to his heart, gasping dramatically

“Now you’ve done it, dearie” he says, taking a step closer to her, until he’s right in her personal space. She smells lovely, like lilacs and rosewater. “Attacked the Dark One.”

“I -- I’m so sorry,” she stammers, a blush creeping up her neck to her face, turning her a rather lovely shade of pink. “I didn’t mean...”

“Now you’ll have to pay the price,” he says, voice low and mock-serious.

She watches him for a long moment, her bright blue eyes studying him closely. After a couple of seconds the corner of her mouth quirks up into a half-smile. “And what might that be?” she says, still with that little smile.

Rumpelstiltskin considers that for a moment, turning over all the things he could ask of her. While he thinks, she looks at him, her expression turning more and more bemused. She’s biting a little on her lower lip, trying not to smile, and he can’t help glancing at her mouth. There’s a slightly swollen spot near the corner of her mouth, red and a little raw.

The silence stretches between them and, for one brief, irrational moment he considers asking her for a kiss. But his always-dubious courage deserts him and instead he says, “Tell me about your book.”

Belle blinks. "My book?"

“Yes,” he says, and if his voice comes out a bit shaky, well. It is rather cold in this drafty old library, even with the fire.

“Oh! Right. My book. Of course.” She laughs and shakes her head a little like she’s trying to clear it. “Well,” she tells him. “It’s about a princess, and an adventure, and a terrible, monstrous beast.”

“Ah,” he says, dancing away from her, putting some space between them. “And I take it the beast must be killed and the princess saved. Such a lovely tale, not at all unoriginal.”

“That’s not the story at all” Belle says haughtily, but she gives him a quick smile before reaching down to pick up the book. She closes it gently, running her hand almost lovingly across the worn leather cover. 

“No?” he asks, and for some reason he can’t stop watching her. 

“No,” she confirms.

He waits but she doesn’t say anything else.

Finally, she takes a step towards him, getting as close to him as he'd been to her just moments before. “It’s not about killing the beast at all," she tells him in a conspiratorial whisper. "It’s about taming him.”

Rumpelstiltskin scoffs. “Well, that sounds downright depressing, dearie. What good is a beast once it’s tamed?”

Belle doesn't answer, just gives him a sideways smile, one that makes it look like she’s got a secret, and for the first time, Rumpelstiltskin wonders if that day in her father’s castle, he got a bit more than he bargained for.


	3. (N is for) Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle, a few nights after the spell is broken.

Belle wakes up with her heart racing, beating so fast that it’s hard to catch her breath. It was the hospital again — the room in the basement, the nurse, the Evil Queen. Sometimes she thinks she’ll never be free of it all.

The room she’s in now isn’t that one, she knows. She’s in a large bed, with soft, clean sheets, and she’s alone, the room too quiet around her. 

It was only a dream, she reminds herself. She’s okay. She’s fine. But the silence is starting to get to her, so she gets out of the bed and pads down the hall in her nightgown, the wood floors cool and hard and real beneath her feet. 

Rumpelstiltskin’s room is only a few doors down, and she feels her way there in the dark. It’s only been two days, but she’s starting to get the feel of the place already. It’s so much smaller than his castle, after all.

His door is open, and Belle slips inside, standing in the dark for just a moment, listening to him breathe, slow and even and comforting, before she makes her way over to the bed.

“Rumpel?” she whispers, trying not to startle him. She wishes she could get her heart to slow down a little; it’s pounding so loud she’s surprised it hasn’t woken him up. She takes a deep, shaky breath before reaching out to touch him gently on the shoulder. 

He starts, jerking awake under her hand. “Belle?” His voice is quiet and sleep-rough, nothing like the teasing high-pitched trill she remembers. “Are you alright?” 

Her eyes have adjusted enough that she can just make out the shape of him, half-sitting in the bed, his hair rumpled from sleep. She nods, even though he probably can’t see her in the dark.

“Nightmare,” she manages. She’s wearing one of the nightgowns he bought for her — a thin slip of silk that feels wonderfully cool and light against her skin — and she tugs at the hem, feeling suddenly ridiculous, standing next to his bed in the dark, waking him up just because she had a bad dream. 

But then he’s reaching out to her, cupping his hand against her face, his palm warm and dry against the curve of her cheek. 

“Oh sweetheart,” he breathes, just like he did that first day, when they found each other again. “Is there anything I can do?”

Belle bites her lip, screwing up her courage. It’s just…she just really doesn’t want to be alone right now. They talked about this a little, that first night — where she should sleep, the two of them both nervous and awkward about it — but Rumpel insisted that she have her own room, that she have a space all her own, that she have whatever she needed. Well, right now she needs him.

“Can I sleep in here with you?” she asks.

“Of — of course,” he says, the hesitation so slight Belle can convince herself she didn’t hear it at all. 

He slides over, making room for her on the bed, and she lies down next to him, near the edge of the mattress. The bed is warm from his body and the sheets smell like him, like sandalwood and magic and home.

He’s tense next to her, his body rigid, so she moves even closer to him, resting her head on his chest and hooking one leg over his, being careful of his bad knee. 

He’s just wearing a t-shirt and a thin pair of pajama pants, and Belle can feel the heat of his skin against her bare leg. She used to dream about this sometimes, alone in her room in his castle all those years ago, about being close to him like this, skin to skin. 

After a few more minutes, he still hasn’t relaxed, his body stiff and awkward next to hers, and Belle wonders if perhaps she’s made a mistake, if maybe his desire for her to have a room of her own was just his way of telling her something that he was too kind to speak aloud. Twenty-eight years is a very long time, after all. 

“I’m sorry,” she tells him, huffing out a quiet, rueful laugh. She really is being ridiculous, and he’s clearly uncomfortable. “I should go.”

“No, please,” he says quickly, reaching over and putting his hand on her hip. She can feel his heart beat through his shirt, fast and strong. “Please don’t go.”

“You’re sure?” she asks, tilting her head up to look at him. He looks different in the darkness, younger and strangely vulnerable. 

“I am,” he says. He pulls her closer to him, his thumb stroking softly against her side, making the silk of her nightgown slide across her skin.

Belle puts an arm around his waist and hugs him closer to her, and he finally, finally relaxes, letting out a slow, shaky breath.

“I…” he starts, but doesn’t say anything else for a moment, just holds her to him. She can feel his breath against the crown of her head, warm and real. “I have missed you so much, Belle,” he finally whispers, and she closes her eyes, her chest feeling suddenly tight.

“Me too,” she says, pressing a soft, quick kiss right above his heart. 

She nuzzles closer to him, breathing in the heady, familiar scent of his skin, exactly like she remembers it from so long ago. 

His thumb is still moving against her hip, tracing out an indecipherable pattern, and Belle closes her eyes against the darkness, letting the strong, steady beat of his heart lull her into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.


	4. (D is for) Dinosaur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle is conflicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to taintednightstar on tumblr for the prompt!

Rumpelstiltskin in his his shop, going over his ledger, when the bell over his door jangles and Belle marches inside, a thick binder clutched against her ever-growing belly. 

“I’ve figured it out,” she announces, making her way over to him with a gleam of satisfaction in her eye. 

“What’s that, my dear?” he asks, watching as she weaves through his shop and wincing a little when her stomach almost topples an antique globe he’s got sitting on a small table near the main aisle.

“The theme for the nursery,” she says, practically bouncing with excitement. Belle sets the binder down next to his ledger and opens it, handing him a small swatch of decorative paper.

“Dragons?” he asks skeptically. It’s not that he has anything against dragons, of course – their hides make for wonderful clothes – but it seems a rather odd choice for an infant girl’s nursery.

“They’re not dragons,” she says, as though this should be completely obvious. “They’re dinosaurs.”

“Ah, of course,” he says. In his opinion, they look rather more like dragons than dinosaurs, but far be it for him to argue. After the blue/purple debacle last week, Rumpelstiltskin is out of the arguing-with-Belle game. At least until after the child’s arrival.

“So?” she says, looking at him expectantly. “What do you think?”

Rumpelstiltskin shrugs one shoulder and looks back down at his ledger. It seems Mr. Tillman is once again late on his rent for the garage. “They’re fine.”

“Rumpel,” Belle sighs. “Our daughter is going to be looking at this pattern every day for the first few _years_ of her life. This is important.”

Rumpelstiltskin forces himself not to roll his eyes. It’s not that he doesn’t care about their impending child’s development, but he’s not sold on the idea that wallpaper will have much of an impact on her.

Baelfire spent his entire childhood looking at the rough dirt walls of their cottage, and he turned out just fine. But he also knows that this is important to Belle, so he sets his pen back down and looks back over at the wallpaper sample.

“I think dragons are an inspired choice,” he says, idly wondering how angry Belle might get if he evicted Tillman and his two grubby children.

“ _Dinosaurs,_ ” she reminds him.

“Right. Yes, of course. Dinosaurs,” he says quickly. The last thing he’s interested in is getting into an argument over wallpaper, of all ridiculous things. “I think dinosaurs are an inspired choice.”

Belle nods vaguely, biting on her lip in that way that tells him she’s second guessing herself. Sure enough: “Maybe the owls would be better…” she says. “What did you think of them?”

He stops himself from groaning in frustration from sheer force of will. 

“Belle. Sweetheart. Please,” he says instead. But he must not be keeping his annoyance as hidden as he thinks because she narrows her eyes at him, so he changes tactic mid-sentence. Rumpelstiltskin has not survived for centuries by dark magic alone. “I like the dinosaurs. Let’s go with those.”

She grins at him then, leaning over the counter to press a kiss against his mouth. “Thank you,” she says, still smiling, her lips warm and sweet against his.


	5. (C is for) Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle gets new accommodations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to munkinette for the prompt!

At first, Belle had assumed being the caretaker for the Dark One would be a rather arduous task, but it turns out to be anything but. 

There’s tea in the afternoons and she spends an hour or so each day struggling with the laundry and then dusting Rumpelstiltskin’s collection in the Great Hall, but that’s pretty much all there is for her to do. 

It turns out that the castle is enchanted, so most of the rooms need very little in the way of dusting or cleaning or any attention at all. 

That doesn’t stop her from exploring, of course, and she spends a great many hours wandering the cavernous halls, ducking in and out of rooms filled with strange, gleaming treasures. 

And so, despite the fact that she doesn’t have much in the way of actual work, Belle still finds herself exhausted each night, tired from exploring the castle. Which would be fine if she had a proper bedroom, but the straw cot in the dungeon is rather scratchy and smells vaguely of mildew and livestock, so sleep has been rather difficult to come by. 

She doesn’t complain, of course, but it does become harder and harder for her to hide her exhaustion.

By the evening of her fourth night in the castle, everything has taken on a kind of hazy, unreal quality, and she can’t seem to stop yawning, these great, jaw-cracking exhalations that break the silence of Rumpelstiltskin’s afternoon tea.

After what is probably the tenth yawn in as many minutes, Rumpelstiltskin sighs, setting down his teacup with a loud rattle. “Tell me, dearie,” he says. “How are you liking your accommodations?” 

Belle shrugs, stifling another yawn behind her hand. “They’re fine.”

“Fine?” he repeats, eyes narrowed. “You find my dungeon…fine?”

Belle nods, picking up his cup and setting it back on the gleaming silver tray. He insists on using the chipped cup for some reason Belle can’t quite figure out. “Yes,” she says. “It’s fine.”

She gathers the creamer and the sugar bowl, arranging it all on the tray in front of her. When she looks up, Rumpelstiltskin is right next to her, only inches away. He smells like chamomile and magic.

“Oh,” she gasps, taking a quick, unconscious step backwards. He smirks, his strange gold-grey eyes bright and filled with mirth when he realizes he’s startled her. 

“Come with me,” he says, not waiting to see if she’s going to follow before he’s moving through the heavy double doors of the Great Hall, the heels of his tall leather boots clicking loudly on the stone floors.

She follows him through a maze of corridors, trying to keep up with him. Normally, it wouldn’t be such a problem, but she’s just so tired. Finally, they get to wherever it is that they’re going, Rumpelstiltskin coming to an abrupt stop at the top of a winding staircase, and Belle almost trips in her attempt to avoid running into him.

“Where are we?” she asks. She’s not been to this part of the castle yet, but it seems different than many of the other corridors, warm and strangely inviting.

“It’s the east wing,” he tells her, as though this should be obvious.

“Why are we here?” she says, biting her lip and looking around. It’s by far the nicest part of the castle she’s seen so far, everything warm and clean and inviting.

“These are your new rooms,” he tells her, waving one hand in the air with a flourish. 

“My rooms?” she asks, looking around. There’s a sitting room with a fireplace and an armchair and just past that she can see another chamber, at the center of which is a bed that’s at least ten times the size of the straw mattress in her dungeon, all of it in varying shades of gold.

“Do you not like them?” he asks. “Would you prefer the dungeon?”

Belle just stands there, not sure of what to say. It’s just – he can’t really be giving her these rooms, can he? Finally: “The dungeon?” she repeats dumbly.

Rumpelstiltskin giggles, the sound echoing off the walls around him. “The dungeon!” he trills, one finger raised into the air. “Well, if that’s your choice…”

“No!” she says, desperately. The dungeon really isn’t all that bad, but these rooms…these rooms are beautiful. “No, I…please, I’d like to stay here.”

He smirks, and then turns to walk away, leaving her standing in the middle of the hallway, gaping as she looks around. He’s almost to the staircase when Belle finds her voice.

“Rumpelstiltskin!” she calls. He stops, turning around but not moving any closer to her. Belle takes a breath and forces herself to look away from her new rooms, making her way over to him.

She reaches out for him before she realizes what she’s doing, her fingers just ghosting over the rough leather of his dragon skin coat, but he flinches as though she’s hit him.

“Yes, dearie?” he says, and Belle swears there’s a slight tremor there, one that sounds a lot like hope.

Up this close, the color of his skin seems to change, glinting gold then green then silver in the light. It’s strangely beautiful. 

“Thank you,” she says, her breath voice coming out lower than she means for it to, breathy and quiet. 

“You’re welcome,” he says automatically, blinking a little like he’s surprised at the words coming out of his mouth.

Belle is too, and she smiles.


	6. (X is for) X-Rated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle discovers romance novels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to anonymousnerdgirl for the prompt!

For a building that’s been locked up for decades, the Storybrooke Public Library is in excellent shape.

The stacks are in pretty good condition, so Belle finds most of her time occupied by the library’s collection of donated paperbacks, trying to organize them and figure out where she’s going to put them all. 

She’s pretty good about not getting too distracted by the books — her focus on organizing, not reading — but occasionally she needs a break from all the stacking, and some of the books in this land are so very strange.

So when she finds a whole pile of books adorned with images of tan, bare-chested men and women with their bodices half-undone, Belle lets her curiosity get the best of her.

The book is silly and ridiculous, but also strangely compelling, so much so that she doesn’t even hear Rumpelstiltskin until he’s standing over her.

“What are you reading, my dear?” he asks, looking down at her curiously.

Belle jumps. “Um,” she says, blushing furiously as she snaps the book closed. “N-nothing.” 

“Nothing?” he repeats, eyebrows raised as he leans on his cane to study the cover. 

Belle bites her lip, and looks for somewhere to hide the book, but there’s nowhere nearby to stash it. Damn.

While she’s distracted, he takes the opportunity to take the book out of her hand, flipping it open to a random page.

“ _Her arousal gushed through her like a tidal wave,_ ” Rumpel reads aloud, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to smile.

And, oh god, it’s so embarrassing and terrible. But despite that, Belle can’t stop the warm feeling she gets deep in her belly as she listens to him read it.

Belle’s face feels like it’s on fire, and he glances up at her before licking one fingers and flipping to another page. “ _Ripples of ecstasy flooded through her…_ ”

His voice has always done something to her that she can’t quite explain, and it’s even more intense in this world with the lilt of his accent and the steady, deep tone of his voice. 

“I see,” Rumpel says, flipping the book closed. Belle blinks. He’s smirking at her, the jerk. “Tidal waves and ripples, is it?”

“Shut up,” she says, laughing a little as she snatches the book out of his hands. “I was just…organizing the books, okay?”

“Indeed,” he says, but the smirk turns into a smile, so she smacks him playfully on the arm with the closed book.

“Careful, dearie,” he says, reaching out and grabbing her wrist gently. 

It’s incredibly quiet in the library, and she can hear Rumpelstiltskin’s breath speed up, coming fast and shallow as she steps closer to him. 

His eyes are dark, and Belle kisses him before she can talk herself out of it. He starts a little and she smiles, pressing her lips firmly against his. 

When she sweeps her tongue against his lower lip, he makes a quiet, desperate noise in the back of his throat and tightens his grip on her wrist.

His skin is warm and dry against hers, and when he strokes his thumb across her pulse point, Belle feels her breath catch in her throat. She drops the book and keeps kissing him, feeling happy and warm and in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: The passage that Rumpel reads/mocks is from _His Royal Pleasure_ by Leanne Banks.


End file.
